attacker.
“Miss DeBrow, please rise and read the lines from the court records and your deposition, highlighted for you in yellow.”
Alexa stood and cleared her throat, then read aloud. “I stabbed at the neck of my attacker because it was right in front of me. The knife was stuck, and I tried to get it out, but I couldn’t pull it straight out; I pulled it to the side. When the knife finally came free, there was blood everywhere. I was so scared. I was crying. I couldn’t get away from the blood. I couldn’t get him off of me. He was so heavy, and I was exhausted.”
Her voice rang loud and clear, with just the right mousy undertone to sound vulnerable. Finally, she was someone the jury could sympathize with. Alexa considered this edited statement a “Hollywood version” of what really happened. The facts were the same, only the words were rearranged. Appleby had contrived a persona that was novice and naïve. Now he requested to replace one statement with the other. The judge called for a short recess to consider Appleby’s appeal. It seemed promising.
She followed Appleby out of the courtroom during the recess, and her stomach groaned of emptiness. She had just stepped into the hallway when the room began turning dark, and sound faded away. Her body hit the floor hard.
She regained consciousness slowly. Her head throbbed as reality seeped back painfully. Alexa opened her eyes and was surprised to see Dale Anderson, Britt’s father, kneeling beside her.
“Mr. Anderson! I didn’t even know you were here . . . at the trial.” She was too perplexed to move from her place on the linoleum.
He propped up her head. “I just wanted to make sure things were going okay. I was thinking of you the other day . . . and I find you like this — on the floor. You’re not well, Alexa.” He shook his head and frowned as if scolding her.
Appleby caught her eye. He made his way toward her cutting through the crowd. His scowl showed dismay. With Dale’s help, Alexa scrambled to a bench nearly.
“I’m fine, Jacob,” she said defensively as Appleby approached them. “I forgot breakfast, that’s all.”
Appleby nodded. “I’ll get you something. I need you on your feet.” He muttered to himself again when he left her with Britt’s father.
“We’ve missed you,” Mr. Anderson started. His worried eyes scanned her face.
Alexa smiled. He had always been a fan of hers. “Thanks, Dale. I’ve missed you — and Britt.” Her lip quivered. She bit down hard to keep it still. She didn’t have the strength to convey emotion.
“It’s not too late for the two of you, you know. I know you kids still love each other. Your trial is almost over. I must confess, Alexa, this old man is hoping that you kids will reconcile.” His warm, comforting words were too much of a fantasy for her to succumb to.
“Yes. I think we still love each other. But so much has changed. We were the perfect match. . .” Her words drifted off. She didn’t know how to say it. Britt fell in love with the beautiful, successful, put-together and flawless Alexa DeBrow. She was the Golden Girl, a nickname her classmates had given her as a symbol of perfection. And Britt deserved that perfection, someone who could complement his many attributes. Now that she had fallen from her pedestal, she no longer deserved him. Besides, he could never see her as he once did. She knew that. Britt knew that. His father had to realize it, as well.
He looked in her eyes as though he were trying to look into her soul and raised an eyebrow. “It’s a damn shame, Alexa.”
She forced another meager smile. “You don’t have to worry about Britt, Dale. He has a bright future ahead of him.” Without me weighing him down. “You don’t have to worry about me, either.” She feigned confidence.
“I just picked you up off the floor, Alexa. I have every reason in the world to worry about you.”
She shunned the truth in his words. “I’ve dealt with a lot
“Miss DeBrow, please rise and read the lines from the court records and your deposition, highlighted for you in yellow.”
Alexa stood and cleared her throat, then read aloud. “I stabbed at the neck of my attacker because it was right in front of me. The knife was stuck, and I tried to get it out, but I couldn’t pull it straight out; I pulled it to the side. When the knife finally came free, there was blood everywhere. I was so scared. I was crying. I couldn’t get away from the blood. I couldn’t get him off of me. He was so heavy, and I was exhausted.”
Her voice rang loud and clear, with just the right mousy undertone to sound vulnerable. Finally, she was someone the jury could sympathize with. Alexa considered this edited statement a “Hollywood version” of what really happened. The facts were the same, only the words were rearranged. Appleby had contrived a persona that was novice and naïve. Now he requested to replace one statement with the other. The judge called for a short recess to consider Appleby’s appeal. It seemed promising.
She followed Appleby out of the courtroom during the recess, and her stomach groaned of emptiness. She had just stepped into the hallway when the room began turning dark, and sound faded away. Her body hit the floor hard.
She regained consciousness slowly. Her head throbbed as reality seeped back painfully. Alexa opened her eyes and was surprised to see Dale Anderson, Britt’s father, kneeling beside her.
“Mr. Anderson! I didn’t even know you were here . . . at the trial.” She was too perplexed to move from her place on the linoleum.
He propped up her head. “I just wanted to make sure things were going okay. I was thinking of you the other day . . . and I find you like this — on the floor. You’re not well, Alexa.” He shook his head and frowned as if scolding her.
Appleby caught her eye. He made his way toward her cutting through the crowd. His scowl showed dismay. With Dale’s help, Alexa scrambled to a bench nearly.
“I’m fine, Jacob,” she said defensively as Appleby approached them. “I forgot breakfast, that’s all.”
Appleby nodded. “I’ll get you something. I need you on your feet.” He muttered to himself again when he left her with Britt’s father.
“We’ve missed you,” Mr. Anderson started. His worried eyes scanned her face.
Alexa smiled. He had always been a fan of hers. “Thanks, Dale. I’ve missed you — and Britt.” Her lip quivered. She bit down hard to keep it still. She didn’t have the strength to convey emotion.
“It’s not too late for the two of you, you know. I know you kids still love each other. Your trial is almost over. I must confess, Alexa, this old man is hoping that you kids will reconcile.” His warm, comforting words were too much of a fantasy for her to succumb to.
“Yes. I think we still love each other. But so much has changed. We were the perfect match. . .” Her words drifted off. She didn’t know how to say it. Britt fell in love with the beautiful, successful, put-together and flawless Alexa DeBrow. She was the Golden Girl, a nickname her classmates had given her as a symbol of perfection. And Britt deserved that perfection, someone who could complement his many attributes. Now that she had fallen from her pedestal, she no longer deserved him. Besides, he could never see her as he once did. She knew that. Britt knew that. His father had to realize it, as well.
He looked in her eyes as though he were trying to look into her soul and raised an eyebrow. “It’s a damn shame, Alexa.”
She forced another meager smile. “You don’t have to worry about Britt, Dale. He has a bright future ahead of him.” Without me weighing him down. “You don’t have to worry about me, either.” She feigned confidence.
“I just picked you up off the floor, Alexa. I have every reason in the world to worry about you.”
She shunned the truth in his words. “I’ve dealt with a lot
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